


I Literally Wrote This in 9th Grade Math Class

by 100percentSnark



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Simmons - Freeform, grif - Freeform, rvb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100percentSnark/pseuds/100percentSnark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a drabble about Grif and Simmons. They talk about books. And backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Literally Wrote This in 9th Grade Math Class

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY ABOUT THE TITLE BUT IT'S TRUE. I FOUND THIS ON MY FUCKING TI-83 FROM HIGH SCHOOL MATH CLASS. A TINY FANFICTION ON MY FUCKING CALCULATOR! YOU'RE WELCOME. This is posted as written on the calculator with no alterations aside from formatting.

Grif yawned theatrically. "This is so boringggg!"

Simmons looked up from his book and smiled sardonically. "Well, you're the one who forgot his book, dumb-ass," he told the sulking man in the orange shirt.

Grif groaned. " _Please._ A book? Who do you take me for?"

"I think the phrase is ' _who do you think I am_ ,' or ' _what do you take me for_ ,' not--"

"Whatever," Grif cut him off.

Simmons huffed. "Well, I take you for a moron who doesn't fucking plan ahead!"

He shoved two other paperbacks at Grif, who read the titles around then shoved them back, announcing, "The bolth suck."

Simmons ignored Grif's annoying speech impediment. "Have you even _read_ them?" He accused.

"Actually, yeah. I have." The orange spartan countered. "The first one is an old sci-fi that's probably a brazilian years old, and--"

" _What?!_ " SImmons exclaimed. "'Brazilian' is a race, not a number!" he informed Grif.

"Not anymore," Grif countered.

"Oh. Right. Poor Brazilia..." Simmons shook his head. "What about the other?"

"The other what?"

Simmons swept a hand over the unmentioned book.

"...That was my favorite book when I was a kid." Grif studied the cover, then realized Simmons was staring at him, bemused. "What? Don't look at me like that."

Simmons tried to wipe the look of unbelief off his face.

"Look, I... I read the entire series my senior year of high school."

Simmons snorted derisively. "Then you never read another book again."

"Well, yeah. I got drafted out of high school." Grif looked up, smugly melancholic.

"...Oh." Simmons pushed Grif's favorite book back towards him. "Read it again," he suggested.

Grif stared into the distance, ignoring the paperback. "...I was going to Harvard, you know?"

Simmons overcame his surprise with another derisive snort. "Don't push it, asshole. I'm already skeptical as to if you've ever actually read those books."

"Remember I told you they bolth sucked?!" Grif shot back hotly. "Well now they do. The draft..." He trailed off, the look of fervor sagging off his face. "Never mind." He pushed the paperback away and crossed his arms.

Simmons lowered the book he was reading and peered over it at Grif. "You mean...?"

Grif turned his head away. "Didn't we already discuss this?"

"Not that I remember," Simmons admitted with a quizzical look.

"The draft prevented me from going to college, I _always_ complain about that," Grif sighed in exasperation. "I guess I just never told you which one. Not that it matters anymore. Whatever. Just.... _Whatever._ "

Simmons hid his fresh annoyance behind his book. "Ok, God. Sorry I even opened my mouth."

He turned back to his paperback and left the silence to hang between them.


End file.
